


Draco Doesn't Know As Much as He Thinks

by JordanGrant



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Polyjuice Potion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 20:08:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JordanGrant/pseuds/JordanGrant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An invitation inside the mind of Draco Malfoy. Warning -- this is not a pretty place to spend much time. <br/>In this story, a Polyjuiced Harry and Ron interview Draco about his knowledge of the Chamber of Secrets just as in canon -- only this time, Draco is the one narrating the scene. How did HE see it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Draco Doesn't Know As Much as He Thinks

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hp_literotica community on LJ, from a challenge posed by Kayen: Rewrite the Polyjuice scene from CoS, using Draco's point of view.

Draco curled his lip as he walked forward, listening to what was happening just around the corner. It really was pathetic, the way the lower classes tried _so_ hard to feel important. 

"I am a prefect," a pratty little voice was saying. "Nothing's about to attack me."

_I wouldn't count on that,_ Draco thought, tempted to draw his wand. He'd know that voice anywhere. A Weasley. Which one hardly mattered. They were all of them the same. Red-headed with horrid ugly freckles. Gryffindor. And worst of all, poor.

And too stupid to know how _awful_ that was. 

Draco rounded the corner and saw that it was a Weasley, all right. Not the one who hung about with that Potter git. One of the other ones. Which one hardly mattered. They were all of them the same--

Ha, the twit looked as though he had in mind to chew out Crabbe and Goyle for something or other. The nerve. Well, Draco wasn't about to let What's-His-Name Weasley abuse his mates. That was Draco's job.

"There you are," Draco drawled, looking Crabbe and Goyle up and down. He ignored the Weasley entirely, since really, the whole lot of them really were completely beneath his notice. "Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall all this time? I've been looking for you; I want to show you something really funny."

Well, maybe it wouldn't do to ignore Weasley quite so completely, Draco decided. After all, these were _his_ dungeons. Time for a withering glare at Weasley. Yes, that really would be best. Well, that and a comment to put the older boy in his place. "And what're you doing down here, Weasley?"

Weasley had the nerve to look affronted. "You want to show a bit more respect to a school prefect! I don't like your attitude!"

Like Draco cared. He almost blew a raspberry. But that would be immature. Father said so.

He decided he didn't care to make a snappy comeback, either. And not just because he couldn't think of one. Really, what he ought to do is let Weasley know that he and his entire Muggle-loving family simply didn't matter, not to proper pureblood wizards. They barely even existed.

If Draco had his way, they _wouldn't_ exist.

Contenting himself with nothing more than another sneer, Draco motioned for Crabbe and Goyle to follow him. Odd... Goyle seemed about to say something to Weasley. Draco would have to talk to him about _that_. 

He waited only until they'd turned a corner and entered another passage. "That Peter Weasley -"

"Percy," Crabbe corrected him.

_Corrected_ him. Honestly! _Him!_ He could buy and sell the both of them ten times over, and here was Goyle almost exchanging _words_ with Weasley... and Crabbe concerned about his proper name! Draco gnashed his teeth, then remembered what Father always said about openly showing his anger. It wouldn't do to look as though a Weasley could affect him.

Far better to make Crabbe and Goyle see how utterly ridiculous the other boy was.

"Whatever," said Draco dismissively. "I've noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. And I bet I know what he's up to. He thinks he's going to catch Slytherin's heir single-handed."

He gave a short, derisive laugh and paused by a stretch of bare, damp stone wall. "What's the new password again?"

Ten to one the both of them were too dim to recall. And sure enough:

"Er -" said Goyle.

"Oh, yeah -pure-blood!" said Draco. There, that should remind them who was in charge. They couldn't even get into the common room, not without him to help them. Draco marched triumphantly inside, Crabbe and Goyle at his heels like the loyal lapdogs they were. Like they'd better be, if they knew what was good for them.

Huh. The common room wasn't deserted as Draco had expected. Several of his housemates were sitting around on their lazy arses, enjoying the crackling fire. How many times did Draco have to tell these people that the common room was _his_ each night after dinner? _His!_ And nobody else was allowed to enjoy it, not unless Draco said so!

Well, he didn't have time to yell at them again. Not now. He wanted to show Crabbe and Goyle that article.

"Wait here," he said, grandly gesturing toward a pair of empty chairs set back from the fire. Wasn't that gracious of him? He'd permit them to sit. Even though really, he _ought_ to make them wait for him standing. They deserved it. _His name's Percy... _Draco thought he might sick up. But Father thought that was bad form as well, so Draco swallowed the feeling down. "I'll go and get it. My father's just sent it to me -"

When Draco got to his room, he had to search for the article. He fumed, blaming the elves. They always mislaid things, the lazy buggers. In his opinion, the elves who cleaned Slytherin were particularly bad about it. _Much_ worse than the elves back home. But of course, Father knew how to keep elves in line. Oh yes, he certainly did. The headmaster here probably never gave them a good kicking. 

Like they deserved.

But what could you expect? Any wizard who let in Mudbloods wasn't going to know how to properly manage elves.

There it was. Draco snatched up the article Father had owled him, then ran back to the common room, though he slowed down properly and regally strolled in once he got close. He thrust the newspaper clipping right under Crabbe's nose. "That'll give you a laugh."

Crabbe looked like he'd eaten a shite-flavoured jelly bean as he stared at the article. After a few seconds he did give a laugh, but it sounded more like he was choking to Draco. But then again, the _he_ wouldn't know how to properly laugh, would he? You had to hold the sensation in the back of your throat until you could be discreet and superior about it. Father said so.

Crabbe handed the article to Goyle, even though he couldn't possibly have read it all. Not that quickly. Not with _his_ level of intelligence. Draco was the smartest boy in his year. In all Slytherin. In all Hogwarts, actually. How could he not be?

Goyle took more time to read it. _That_ was more like it. Draco didn't think his house mates ought to be pretending they were as smart as him. Besides, that article was something to savour. To pore over. Draco had read it about fifteen times already. A Muggle-lover getting what he deserved. 

Draco couldn't have asked for a better present at Yule season.

Of course he _had_ asked for some things. And he'd better get them, too!

"Well?" he asked impatiently as Goyle handed the clipping back. Goyle wasn't smiling at all. Neither was Crabbe. Oh, Merlin! The pair of them were even stupider than he'd thought! "Don't you think it's funny?"

"Ha, ha," said Goyle, sounding like somebody had died or something!

"Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should snap his wand in half and go and join them," said Draco, trying to cheer them up. They apparently hadn't got the joke quite yet, but Draco was perfectly willing to point out the important bits to them. Someday, he reflected, he'd really have to try to get some friends who were more his equals. That was probably impossible, though. Nobody was _his_ equal. Well, except Father. 

Crabbe and Goyle weren't even smiling yet. That was a bit annoying. They ought to have got it by now. He couldn't keep the scorn out of his voice. But that might have been because he wasn't bothering to try. "You'd never know the Weasleys were pure-bloods, the way they behave!"

Crabbe's face twisted like he had cramp something fierce. 

"What's up with you, Crabbe?" he snapped, out of patience.

"Stomachache." 

The grunting noise behind the words was a bit alarming. Draco surreptitiously moved his chair a little further away. It wouldn't do to have anyone sick up on him. That was even worse than sicking up, himself. Malfoys simply weren't to be treated like that.

Though come to think of it, it only stood to reason that Draco had been right about what was wrong. Draco was usually right.

"Well, go up to the hospital wing and give all those Mudbloods a kick from me," he said, snickering at the thought. It wasn't the first good laugh he'd had over the attacks, either. Every time a new one popped up, Draco _howled_ with laughter. Mudbloods getting what they deserved. And just in time for Yule. It warmed Draco, all the way through.  "You know, I'm surprised the Daily Prophet hasn't reported all these attacks yet. I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up. He'll be sacked if it doesn't stop soon. Father's always said old Dumbledore's the worst thing that's ever happened to this place. He loves Muggle-borns." 

Draco paused, realising he'd have to watch his language a bit. _Muggle-borns?_ They were Mudbloods! Lower than pond scum! But he'd heard his teachers using the _other_ term, and it had obviously rubbed off. Father would be horrified. And that meant that Draco was, too. He gritted his teeth for a minute, furious. "A decent headmaster would never've let slime like that Creevey in!"

Yeah, nasty little shutterbug. Just the thought of him made Draco shudder. He started taking pictures with an imaginary camera, a sarcastic gitlike smile plastered to his face as he spoke in a high-pitched smarmy voice. "`Potter, can I have your picture, Potter? Can I have your autograph? Can I lick your shoes, please, Potter?"'

Crabbe and Goyle weren't smiling _at all,_ blast them! "What's the matter with you two?"

_Then_ they laughed. Well, they'd better. It was a right giggle, the way Potter couldn't even fend off a pest like Creevy. And they said that _he'd_ been the one to defeat the Dark Lord? Draco didn't think so. There was more to that story than anybody was telling. 

Someday, Draco was going to puzzle the rest of it out, and show the wizarding world that Potter was nothing but a scarred half-blood with nitwit friends!

"Saint Potter, the Mudbloods' friend," he went on, savouring each word. As well he should. Sitting around of an evening detailing Potter's bad points was a fine way to pass the time. Draco should know. "He's another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around with that jumped up Granger Mudblood. And people think _he's_ Slytherin's heir!"

Actually, that last part was infuriating. 

"I wish I knew who it is," he went on, thrusting out his lower lip. It just wasn't fair! _He_ was a Malfoy. He knew things. But he didn't know this! Draco almost pounded his feet on the floor. "I could help them."

Goyle spoke up then, his words coming so fast it was actually bizarre. Goyle wasn't a quick thinker at the best of times. "You must have some idea who's behind it all......"

"You know I haven't, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you?" he snapped. "And Father won't tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing - last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them's killed this time .... I hope it's Granger." 

He licked his lips, imagining it. Oh, wouldn't that make for the best Yule yet! Her ugly bush of hair splayed out all over the floor, her mouth wide open on a final scream, her eyes clenched in agony... no, no, _open_. Draco wanted to see her afraid. She _should_ be afraid, invading Hogwarts, which any right-thinking person knew ought to be for purebloods only.

Crabbe's big fists were clenching. His stomach must hurt something fierce. Maybe it was something catching, Draco thought, moving his chair back again. Just a tad. It wouldn't do to get ill. That sort of behaviour wasn't appropriate for Malfoys.

Goyle's voice certainly sounded strained as well, when he talked. He'd probably already caught whatever nasty bug Crabbe had.  "D'you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?"

Ah, now that was nice. Draco liked being asked questions. He leaned back in his chair, and thought about lording it over them, going on for a bit about how _he_ knew things and they didn't. But that would be childish. Father said so. "Oh, yeah ... whoever it was was expelled. They're probably still in Azkaban."

"Azkaban?"

"Azkaban - the wizard _prison_ , Goyle," said Draco, looking at him in disbelief. "Honestly, if you were any slower, you'd be going backward."

Hmm, when Father issued a put down like that, he leaned forward, just a bit. Draco shifted in his chair. There, that was better. "Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the school needs ridding of all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he's got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor last week?"

Goyle looked stupid and concerned all at once.

"Yeah. . ." continued Draco, giving him a second look. "Luckily, they didn't find much. Father's got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff. But luckily, we've got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor-"

"Ho!" 

Draco glanced at Crabbe, who started blushing. For an instant, it looked like even his _hair_ was embarrassed. As well it should be! Didn't he have the sense to sit and _listen_ when Draco held forth? Crabbe and Goyle were both acting so oddly that it occurred to Draco to wonder if he'd been too lenient with them. He'd have to correct that. _You must be firm with inferiors,_ Father always said. _They mustn't be your friends. They must only be your followers._ And he'd started to think of Crabbe and Goyle... well, as mates, actually. This was bad, really bad. He'd have to be more aloof for a while and teach them a lesson.

Perhaps they knew already how badly they'd been behaving, though. Crabbe and Goyle both suddenly jumped to their feet.

"Medicine for my stomach," Crabbe grunted as the pair of them scurried off toward the door to the common room. 

Draco leaned back again and folded his hands together the way Father often did. Served Crabbe and Goyle right if they were ill. When they got back, he'd give them to understand that he wouldn't be treated like that again.

And in the meantime, he'd cheer himself up by reading that newspaper clipping for the sixteenth time.

~

Fin


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